


Cocktails and Strange Encounters

by Kaatyr



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Audio Format: MP3, F/M, One Shot, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28164894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaatyr/pseuds/Kaatyr
Summary: “You must be Mr Kurta!”Kurapika struggled to keep the scowl off his face as he took in the appearance of his new boss. Not only was he meeting her for the first time in her bedroom—a highly inappropriate place, in his opinion—but she was also a teenager. A colourful, frilly, bright-eyed teenager.Still, she was a disgustingly rich teenager, Kurapika had to admit. That was all that mattered, right?Kurapika's new employer turns his expectations upside-down.
Relationships: Kurapika/Neon Nostrade
Kudos: 11





	Cocktails and Strange Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> This story is available in audio form for those who would prefer to listen rather than read. Please note that this is a text to speech recording, which means that there may be some issues with it.
> 
> [Stream or download MP3 from Google Drive](https://drive.google.com/file/d/16sBtbORkTLayMEKRLdCZGRZYCGy989cy/view?usp=sharing)

“You must be Mr Kurta!”

Kurapika struggled to keep the scowl off his face as he took in the appearance of his new boss. Not only was he meeting her for the first time in her bedroom—a highly inappropriate place, in his opinion—but she was also a teenager. A colourful, frilly, bright-eyed teenager.

Still, she was a disgustingly rich teenager, Kurapika had to admit. That was all that mattered, right?

“I am,” Kurapika responded curtly. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture straight. He’d bought a new black suit for the occasion. He wanted to look the part of a professional bodyguard. Looking like anything less would reflect badly on his employer—even if said employer had hair dyed the colour of ocean water. Kurapika personally thought that the colour was unflattering, though she did have pretty eyes.

“Can I call you Pika?” Neon asked with a sunny smile.

“If you must,” Kurapika said, his tone as icy as the colour of Neon’s eyes, “though I prefer either Mr Kurta or Kurapika.”

Neon bounced up off the bed and peered into his face. “You’re a lot cuter than my last bodyguard,” she pronounced.

“Thank you, but I don’t believe that looks have any relevance in this situation,” Kurapika said stiffly.

Neon’s eyes sparkled with inner delight. “And so serious. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Pika. Right?”

Neon’s smile invited Kurapika to agree, but all he could do was press his lips together in disapproval. No wonder it had been so easy for a young, inexperienced eighteen-year-old to get this job. The more experienced in the field had probably seen the red flags a mile away and decided that the money wasn’t worth the trouble.

Kurapika was determined to be professional, however, even if this little girl (God, she was only two years younger than him, yet it seemed like a gulf of twenty years separated them!) was the epitome of frivolity.

Kurapika returned to the suite of rooms he’d been assigned after meeting his new boss. He sat down at his desk and sighed. He had a lot of work to do. He needed to familiarise himself with the layout of the house and grounds, with the identities, schedules and tasks of the other employees, get hold of Neon’s schedule, which hadn’t been provided to him yet, and figure out how he was going to protect this little girl when he was apparently the only bodyguard she’d hired. He could already feel the first press of a headache building in his temples.

The first few days of Kurapika’s new job went quite smoothly, considering his reservations. Kurapika organised trips to the mall, to fancy eateries, even to a museum holding an exhibit of rare birds—Kurapika actually enjoyed that outing.

But, on the sixth day of Kurapika’s employment, something odd happened.

The tantrum wasn’t unexpected. Kurapika had just refused Neon’s request to go to a popular nightclub, after all.

“You’re sixteen,” he reminded a red-faced Neon with as much calm as he could muster. His fingers itched with the desire to strangle her. “You’re underage.”

Neon pouted. Kurapika strongly disapproved of her outfit of choice. Rather than the frilly skirts and blouses she’d worn up until now, she was wearing a tight black miniskirt, a top that left her midriff exposed, way too much makeup, and glittering earrings that Kurapika suspected were worth a lot more than his entire suit.

“I don’t look underage,” Neon pointed out, waving her hand in front of her breasts as if to draw Kurapika’s eye to them. “And I have a fake ID.”

She smiled winningly at Kurapika, who wanted to bury his face in his hands.

“No,” Kurapika said. “We’re not going to a nightclub.”

Not even Neon’s wide-eyed, puppy-dog eyes and cutely-batted eyelashes could sway him.

Except, for some reason Kurapika could not determine, he found himself exactly where he’d so firmly sworn he wouldn’t. Neon clutched his arm and pulled him along through the press of people as Kurapika struggled to orient himself, disorientated by the dazzling, moving lights, sounds, and odours assaulting his senses.

How had he gotten here? He honestly couldn’t remember. The last clear memory he had was standing in Neon’s room and informing her that he wasn’t going to take her to the nightclub.

So how the hell had they ended up here?

“Miss Neon.”

“Isn’t this great?” Neon released his arm and flashed him a smile that seemed too white for Kurapika’s eyes to handle.

“I said we weren’t coming here,” Kurapika said, struggling to figure out what happened.

“You changed your mind,” Neon informed him cheerfully.

“Clearly, but…” Kurapika trailed off, confused. Why had he changed his mind?

“You’re such a nice man, Pika.”

Startled by the unexpected compliment, Kurapika stared at Neon. Her eyes were crinkled as she grinned at him.

And then Kurapika’s thoughts grew thick like mud. Colours blurred into indistinct shadows and the noise of the club dulled to a low roar at the edge of Kurapika’s mind, until…

Kurapika found himself standing at the bar. Neon was holding a bright green cocktail. Dear God, that looked disgusting.

Kurapika took the drink from Neon and put it back down on the bar.

“Pika!”

Neon’s protest rang in Kurapika’s ears as he pulled her away from the bar before she could retake possession of her drink.

“I am taking you back to the estate.”

Kurapika’s grip was firm on Neon’s arm as he pulled her toward the exit. Neon resisted, glowering at him as she tried to keep her footing in high heels.

“i’m not going. Now let me go. That’s an order!”

Kurapika ignored her, refusing to even look in her direction. He was forced to release her arm, however, when she gave an unexpectedly strong tug. Kurapika whirled to face her, mindful to keep his eyes averted from her face. He wouldn’t fall victim to whatever spell of persuasion she’d cast on him earlier.

“I can’t protect you here,” Kurapika hissed.

Neon tossed her head. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “I can look after myself. I’m not a child, Pika.”

Huffing, she turned away. Furiously, Kurapika grabbed her again before she could flounce off. Determined to get her out of the nightclub, he steered her toward the nearest exit—not the main one, which he’d been aiming for before, but a side door in a short corridor. He pulled a complaining Neon out the side door and into the alleyway.

As he released Neon, he felt a stinging slap across his face. Kurapika blinked, too stunned by Neon’s action to remember that he’d decided to avoid looking at her pretty eyes. Her stare was unusually serious and icy. He reached up to touch his stinging cheek disbelievingly.

“How dare you!” Neon hissed.

“It’s my job to protect you,” Kurapika snapped back, thoroughly fed up. “But you make that impossible!”

Neon took a step closer to him. Kurapika refused to give ground, keeping his feet planted firmly. He could not let her believe that she could intimidate him.

“You,” Neon started, raising her finger to point at Kurapika’s nose, “are insufferable. Would it kill you to loosen up?”

“You don’t pay me to ‘loosen up’,” Kurapika reminded her.

“I’ve half a mind to fire you,” Neon informed him. “I would if you weren’t so cute.”

Kurapika bit his lip. On the one hand, being rid of this silly girl would be a relief, but on the other hand, how would that look on his resume?

“Now, let’s go back inside,” Neon said smugly. She started to push past Kurapika, but then—

“Hey.”

Instinctively, Kurapika grabbed Neon and pushed her behind him. He eyed the newcomer with wary confusion.

“Go away,” he said. He was in no mood to be polite. Besides, anyone who interrupted an argument between two strangers should really expect such a reception.

The stranger was tall and dark-haired. He was dressed entirely in black, with a long jacket covering most of his form. What made Kurapika uneasy, however, was the object he was holding. It wasn’t a gun. In fact, it didn’t look as if it should be an immediate concern, but the strangeness of it bothered Kurapika. The object seemed to be a length of wood sharpened to a point on one end.

A very crude and highly impractical weapon. A knife would have been better. Kurapika wondered if the man had mental health issues.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the man said in a sing-song voice that set Kurapika’s nerves further on edge.

“I think you can,” Kurapika retorted.

“You’re so rude, Pika.”

Behind him, Neon sounded as if she were laughing. Kurapika barely held in a growl of frustration. Couldn’t she take anything seriously?

The stranger glowered at Kurapika. “It’d be best if you left now,” he said.

“Happy to,” Kurapika returned. “Come on, Miss Neon.”

“Not her,” the man said, brandishing the wooden length. “Just you.”

Kurapika’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said simply. Silently, he cursed Neon for somehow convincing him to come here without his gun. What a supremely stupid thing to do.

Neon patted his shoulder, her gesture unusually sympathetic. “Pika, look at me,” she said.

Kurapika deliberately kept his eyes on the stranger. “Go back inside, Miss Neon,” he instructed. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Kurapika.”

Kurapika flinched at the sound of his full name. Still, he refused to look at Neon.

“You’ve got yourself a stubborn one,” the stranger commented, seemingly to Neon. “That’s a pity. I really hate hurting innocents.”

So, this guy was definitely out to hurt someone, very likely his boss. Kurapika squared his shoulders determinedly. That wasn’t going to happen.

“Pika, darling, why do you have to be so difficult?”

Neon shouldered him out of the way with a surprising amount of force. In fact, she knocked him off-balance. Startled, Kurapika caught himself against the wall.

“Miss Neon!”

Neon turned her head to meet his eyes as the stranger grinned.

“Stay,” she said, as if Kurapika were a trained dog.

Kurapika tried to step toward her, only to feel nausea sweep over him. He dropped to his knees on the ground, letting out a gasp of pain as they impacted the hard surface.

“Wha-what?” he managed to get out. When he tried to stand, his vision started to blur. He felt a hand pat his head.

“Be a good boy and wait for me. This won’t take long.”

Neon sounded as if she were laughing again.

Kurapika lost track of time. His mind sank into a fog that felt entirely too familiar and distressing. When he became aware again, there was an unpleasant odour in the air. Kurapika felt sick.

Neon knelt before him, fingers beneath his chin tilting his face up. Kurapika blinked. Had she smudged her lipstick? It appeared to be dripping...

...Was that blood on her clothes?

...And was she smiling?

Kurapika swallowed. “What’s... wrong with me?” he asked.

Neon patted his cheek. “Nothing, Pika. You’ll feel totally fine in just a few minutes.”

Kurapika looked around the alley, searching for any sign of that stranger, but they appeared to be alone. He was already beginning to feel better, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand just yet.

“Are you okay?” he asked Neon. She seemed fine, despite the blood on her clothes. Her eyes were alert... and maybe a little regretful as well? She certainly didn’t look happy about whatever had just happened. More... disappointed? It was such an uncharacteristically complex look from her that Kurapika had trouble reading it.

“Once you’re on your feet, we’ll go home,” Neon declared.

Thank God. Finally, she was seeing reason.

It wasn’t until they were in the car, Kurapika in the driver’s seat with Neon in the passenger seat, attention fixated on her nails, that Kurapika remembered to ask about the stranger.

“Where did that man go?” he asked.

Neon smiled down at her nails as she filed them. “He’s dead, Pika,” she said. Her voice was chillingly matter-of-fact.

“Dead?”

Kurapika kept his eyes on the road, half-distracted by the task of driving, though the area was quiet. They were just a few minutes from the estate, on a long stretch of tree-lined country road. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Yes, Pika.” Neon’s tone was that of an adult explaining something unpleasant to a child. It felt patronising, but Kurapika couldn’t muster up his usual fury at the tone. He felt too shaken by the night’s events and his inability to stop them.

“How?” Kurapika inquired.

Neon laughed, though there was no joy in the sound. The high, spiked fence of the estate came into view and Kurapika felt relieved. Maybe, within it, he could finally feel as if he were safe. As if things were normal.

“You ask such silly questions, Pika,” Neon said.

Kurapika pulled up to the gate and pressed the remote to open it before turning a hard look on Neon, who was smiling at him in that patronising way he hated so much. She was just a teenager, damn it. How could she think she had the right...

Only two years between them. God.

“How did he die?” Kurapika asked slowly.

Neon’s eyes seemed larger and brighter than usual. Kurapika raised one arm to shield his own, sensing his mind beginning to slip away from him. It was definitely the eyes. She had some sort of hypnotic ability. Kurapika was sure of it now.

“Oh, Pika... I suppose this was bound to happen... Will you put your arm down, please?”

“No. Not if you’re trying to do... whatever you did before!” Kurapika snapped.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Kurapika didn’t believe her.

Neon let out an annoyed huff. “I promise, Pika,” she repeated. “I promise, I promise, I promise.” She sounded as if she were taunting him in that high, childish voice. It was almost reassuring to hear her sounding like the innocent young girl he’d taken her to be when they’d first met.

Kurapika lowered his arm from his eyes, though he fixed his stare on Neon’s lips. She’d cleaned off the lipstick, though Kurapika now wondered if it had actually been lipstick at all.

“I killed that man, Pika,” Neon told him bluntly.

“You... you what?”

The gates to the estate were wide open, inviting them in, but Kurapika remained staring at Neon’s lips. Neon parted them in a smile, seemingly amused by his incredulity. Kurapika began to feel a little dizzy as he realised that there was something abnormal about her teeth. She had what he could only describe as fangs.

“He was a vampire hunter, Pika. A very stupid one, but, really, what could you expect from someone so young?”

Neon chuckled. Kurapika felt cold, a numbness creeping up from his extremities. He wanted to write of Neon’s explanation as the daydream of a child, but his rational mind couldn’t accept that after what he’d experienced. It refused to let him ignore the oddities any longer.

“You’re a vampire,” Kurapika said.

Neon clapped her hands, a broad grin splitting her face. Her eyes danced, as if Kurapika were a baby that had just said his first word.

“Of course,” she said, as if there was nothing more obvious in the world.

“Fuck,” Kurapika muttered. He should have negotiated for more money. Way more money. A bodyguard to a childish teenage _vampire_ girl? Nothing in Kurapika’s eighteen years of experience had prepared him for that.


End file.
